


Upside down

by Anuna



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Making Out, Massage, NSFW, Sexual Intimacy, Smut, Touching, one where Ward gets to feel blissed out, post redemption, the grand smut off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 06:37:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2057679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anuna/pseuds/Anuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ward's world is upside down and he can't sleep. Skye wants to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upside down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaptainSummerDay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSummerDay/gifts), [nathyfaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nathyfaith/gifts).



> written because **CaptainSummerDay** and **Nathyfaith** made me. Also, because I needed a break from all the angst.

The world was upside down. That was the only way Grant Ward could have described his current circumstances – everything he thought right habitually turned out to be wrong. He could swear that Coulson never got enough of hearing _I don't know, Sir_ , even if Grant didn't see the purpose of admission. He was a fucking agent, his job was to know things. Not knowing was dangerous. Ward punched the bag in front of him and kept ignoring sweat dripping into his eyes. 

_Knowing what you don't know is sometimes the most important thing of all_. 

Yeah, right, until I screw up a mission due to my complete and utter confusion. 

“Wow, Ward,” a voice startled him and he stopped punching. “What did the bag do to you?”

He grabbed the bag and paused to catch his breath and come up with some kind of reply that wouldn't invoke more questions. The way Skye was looking at him was already toeing the line of suspicious, and yes, he was aware that she was keeping an eye on him – everyone was, but not for the lack of trust. He could handle the lack of trust. He didn't know exactly what to do with concern, mostly because he thought he didn't deserve it – and he didn't know what to do with it, period. 

“Hey, Skye,” was the best he could come up with. 

“Hey yourself,” half smile tugged at her lips. He was edgy. She started coming down here when he exercised without any particular reason except to talk to him, and he wasn't sure how to handle that either. There was just too much of... everything. He still remembered things he told her, thank you very much, and he wasn't proud of himself at all. “Watcha doing?” 

“What does it look like?” he said, readying himself to start punching again; however she was holding the bag. He wasn't going to punch if she was holding it. She rolled here yes at him. 

“Yeah, you're trying to punch your frustration out and it's not working?” she said, blinking at him. He stared at her, blinking in return. As usual, she managed to put it all into really simple words and hit home. “You look tense for past three days,” she continued. “It's not that hard to see.” 

He sighed. He was supposed to be good at hiding things. 

“Ward,” she sighed. Her tone sounded tired and something he couldn't exactly name. He sighed in defeat. It was no wonder that she could defeat him in any game. 

“Fine,” he said. Time to spill his guts, because that was what Skye wanted. “Can't sleep.” 

She crossed her arms and observed him, non judgmental and just worried. The last mission was a bust, and while everyone kept telling him he couldn't have seen that shooter and couldn't have made any difference, he kept replaying the scenario in his head. 

Because he was trained to prevent situations exactly like that one. 

Un – learning something you've been doing for years was hard. Coulson kept repeating that one. 

“How long?” she asked. He shrugged. 

“Couple of days.”

“Huh. I see,” she said. He knew what she was going to ask next – why didn't you tell? “I didn't want to bother anyone.” 

“Well you're not bothering me,” she said. “I came to bother you so that kinda cancels out you bothering anyone. Um,” she let go of the bag and came to stand in front of him, offering him a grin. “You could, you know, watch a movie sometimes. Or play board games with us. Or with me. Or get out of the base.”

“I know,” he said. 

“Things that are relaxing? This is not relaxing,” she was saying, and it felt just like old times. Just like her not wanting to do pull ups and trying to find a way through his defenses. He was too amused to properly consider the trouble he was in. That ended well, didn't it? Cue in Fitz or Trip or anyone really telling him that emotions weren't a weakness. His mind rebelled, but some inner part of him wanted to rejoice. He still wasn't giving in. 

“Well, I can go grab a shower,” he said. “And then, I don't know. Watch something. Maybe that puts me to sleep.” 

It wouldn't, but Skye was smiling approvingly and he wanted to calm her down and not worry over him. It would pass, just not very quickly. He'd get over it. Seriously, nobody should be worried about him overthinking a mission. 

“Maybe I can bring something super boring to watch?” 

He opened his mouth to refuse. Seriously, he should. He didn't deserve it. But, he remembered the last time he watched something super boring with her (super boring by his standards, not hers), and her ongoing commentary and how he ended up laughing. 

“Yes?” 

Her smile was more brilliant than the sun. 

And he felt like he'd spent too much time in dark spaces anyway. 

“Yeah, why not?” he finally agreed. 

*

Skye arrived a moment after he got dressed. The shower did help, but now all of his body was protesting. Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd fall asleep at some point and Skye would leave quietly enough and wouldn't wake him. Maybe he'd be so lucky to stay asleep for couple of hours. That was all he wanted. A few hours of straight and uninterrupted sleep instead of waking up every forty minutes. 

Skye was holding her laptop in one hand. He frowned at the bottle she had in another. 

“What's that?” 

Skye grinned. “Agran oil,” she said, like its purpose was self explanatory. It wasn't, though, Grant never heard of it before. 

“Does it help you sleep?”

Skye gave him an incredulous look. “No, dummy. It's for massage.”

Now he felt even more puzzled. “Massage?” 

Her eyebrows rose and she chuckled then. “Oh Ward. SHIELD agent, awful bad guy, badass vigilante and SHIELD agent again, you're still so -” 

“What?” he asked, wondering why his face was so determined to smile. She put her laptop on his nightstand and waved the small bottle in his direction. 

“Confused,” she said. “Come here, I won't bite. I'll give you a foot rub.” 

He cocked his head to the side. Why would she give him a foot rub? 

“Why?”

“Seriously? Because foot rubs are awesome. And relaxing. You can start watching Doctor Who,” she said, waiving in the general direction of his bed, where he obediently went and sat down. Skye squatted down near his feet. It was unusual to say the least to have someone else untie his laces and take off his shows and socks. “Oh wow.”

“What?”

“How are your feet this smooth?” she ran her palm down the underside of his foot and that felt nice, if a bit tickling. “Seriously, what do you do with them? I'd kill for feet soles as smooth as yours.”

He shrugged. “I don't do anything?” 

“That is,” Skye said as she uncapped her little bottle of oil. He watched her pour a few drops into her hand. “So. Superbly. Unfair.” 

“If you – uhm -” 

Grant forgot his reply when her fingers started working. At first it was just the shock at the touch, but soon he sighed and felt his eyes close. His feet were tired, the oil smelled nice, her fingers were soft and the entire thing was... was... oh God, it _was_. 

“Good?”

“Uh. Um. Yes,” he managed, not able to be properly bothered by his lack of eloquence. Who would have thought that someone else's fingers could do that to his feet? That this sort of touch induced bliss? He dropped backwards, leaning onto his elbows and realizing that the bed beneath him was pleasantly soft. Just like Skye's hands. Her fingers pressed and relaxed, rubbed circles along the sole of his right foot, massaged his toes, his heel and ankle. He gave up on pretense of alertness, because it was literally impossible not giving into something as pleasurable as this, so he let himself lie back. 

“Good boy,” said Skye. He hummed. “Still alive?”

“I'm managing,” he said. She laughed. He allowed himself to smile (she couldn't see him), but he made her laugh and she was giving him a foot rub and he never had a foot rub before and it was great. So he smiled. It was pretty dumb, but he didn't have it in himself to care. 

Then he felt he started to relax. 

When she released his right foot and switched to the left, he almost moaned in protest. Thankfully, he still had enough awareness not to do something like that, but he was so damn close to not caring about anything. 

Which was... not a bad idea at all. Just... fuck everything, he was so done. 

Skye's fingers worked him into a pile of bliss. He embraced the feeling of tiredness, of his muscles aching, of his body sinking into the bed – which was why he sighed in protest when her hands were gone. He propped himself up to look at her and met her smile. 

“Was that good?” she asked. 

“Very,” he said, because it would have been impolite to ask for more, right? And he badly wanted more, he badly wanted more of her company, but he had no right to ask for any of it. 

Skye grinned. “Would you like a backrub too?” 

Grant felt his mouth drop. He felt his face stretching into a smile, and he felt positively gleeful when she neared the bed. He definitely wasn't going to say no. 

“You'll have to take off your shirt,” she said, twirling the bottle of oil between her fingers. Oh. Of course. That was only logical. “And then roll over onto your stomach.”

“My stomach?”

“M-hmmm,” she nodded sagely and he obeyed, like a good soldier that he was; besides he trusted her. She already did such good job with his feet. “Put your hands under your face and get comfortable,” she said. 

There was no warning that she was about to straddle his lower back (or more precisely, his rear). However, the close physical contact wasn't something unfamiliar – they sparred quite often. Being pinned to the ground involved similar types of contact. Skye was no stranger to him. She'd seen him wounded, she helped him patch himself up, as did he help her. He did shift and heard he chuckle. 

“What, am I too heavy for you?” 

“No,” he said and almost smiled into the mattress under his face. “No, not at all, I just didn't – oh.” 

Her _hands_. 

“Just relax,” she instructed and in her voice he could feel a smile. 

Like he could do anything else. He sighed, slowly, almost trying to hide it. “That's it,” she commended, and of course she noticed. Her hands glided up his back, on either side of his spine, then pressed downwards and kneaded his lower back. His very painful lower back. He tried but couldn't prevent the low groan. “Too hard?”

“No, no,” he said, wondering if he could melt into her touch. “It's good. It just... that bit hurts.” 

“I'll be careful,” she said quietly. 

And she was. Careful and dedicated to do this well. That's at least what he thought, as he didn't have much experience to compare to. 

She was much stronger than she seemed, but that wasn't a surprise. He knew Skye and Skye was strong in many different ways. He was realizing that he was feeling like a total wreck and didn't even know it, didn't notice how tense his shoulders were and how much his back was hurting. And she was touching it all, pressing, finding her way through his disguises to find his pain. And it was wonderful. It was absolutely glorious. He reached a point where his dignity didn't matter, all that mattered were her hands steadily kneading his shoulders and drawing needy little sounds from him. She was saying things, but he was lost on the meaning; he let himself be lulled by her tone and her touch and the curtain of hair falling near his face as she leaned forward. 

“Ow,” he said when her fingers dug under his shoulder blade. The pain was not much, it was just that he was relaxed, and didn't think if he should react or not. She paused. 

“Did I hurt you?” 

“No, no,” he moved, to try to look at her. “Just... old pain.” 

“Mission?” she asked. 

He buried his face in the sheets. He didn't want to think about that. The moment was too good to waste it on such a memory. 

“Not really,” he said. He wanted her to continue but her hands were still, gently stroking his skin. 

“I... uh. Sorry,” she said. The thing was, her intuition was the worst. She immediately knew when she stumbled across something from his family days. 

“Skye,” he breathed. “It's okay. This is wonderful. And -” 

“Oh,” she said then. “Would you like more?” 

_I would like if you never stopped_ , he thought. “Yes, please,” he said instead. She continued along his arms, left and then right and he hissed because his muscles _hurt_. 

“Careful,” he said. 

“Gotcha,” she answered, her fingers lighter. It still hurt, but her hair was falling around his face and he was too busy being blissed out to complain again. 

Her hands moved to his neck, and that was perfect, the way the tension went away leaving him boneless, that was perfect. Then her hand was in his hair and he closed his eyes. 

“Turn around,” she said then, and he did. He did not think. Didn't even blink when she straddled his thighs. It was, after all, the same thing as before, only he turned around. “Hands,” she requested and he offered his right hand, giving himself over into her hands. Which was okay. Her hands were awesome. Her hands did spectacular things to him, and he was completely okay with that. “You should see yourself,” she said softly. 

“Why?” he was probably grinning like a fool. But that didn't matter. Nothing mattered. He didn't even remember when was the last time he felt like this. 

“No reason,” she said. “Other hand.”

He did as he was asked and kept on smiling along with the pressure of her fingertips. But when he felt her hands massaging his fingers, every single digit a time, and felt her movements slowing down, he knew it was done. He didn't want it to be over, and ridiculously, irrationally wanted it to last. “Hey,” she said when his eyes met hers. She smiled. Her fingers wrapped around his and he realized he was holding her hand. She squeezed in return, looking at him in a way that made him want to put her inside his chest and keep her there. And before his brain was able to insert itself, before he even processed what he was doing, he propped himself on his left elbow, upsetting the balance between them and reached out for her. His fingers tangled themselves in her hair, her shiny, shiny hair. There could have been a sigh when he did so, he wasn't sure, but all he knew was that he cradled the back of her head in his palm and pulled her closer and she went along. And then he was kissing her – a tentative first touch, and a full open mouthed kiss a second later. 

_Oh shit._

Oh shit, what did he just do?

But then he felt her fingers in his hair again and she was kissing him back. _She was kissing him back_. 

His left arm gave out. They fell back to bed, her hair all over his chest and her tongue inside of his mouth, and if he ever had any brainpower inside of his head, it was all gone now, but then he needed air, and so did she. He gasped, and the action brought him back to reality of Skye on top of his naked chest, of her smell and touch and closeness, and the fact that she was straddling his hard-on. 

“Oh,” she said. There was no way she wouldn't feel it. He tried to get up, move, but he didn't want to throw her off, which ended up in a clumsy affair until she put a hand on his shoulder. “Ward? Are you okay?”

He looked at her and couldn't say anything. His body was demanding one thing and his mind was telling him he ought to do the opposite and all he could do was blush. 

She smiled. 

“Ward? Oh my God,” she still wasn't moving and that prominent _situation_ below his waist was becoming only worse. “Hey,” she said softly. “Hey, you dumbo. It's okay.”

He didn't quite comprehend what that meant. Second later she kissed him, long and soft. “It's okay,” she whispered into another kiss. Reached for one of his hands. Kissed him again and placed his palm against her breast. _Oh God._ She gave him a tiny, naughty smile. “Don't stop.”

Before he could do anything, she was kissing him again. And kissing and kissing and kissing him. His body had to take over because suddenly he had both of his hands on her breasts, and then he was unbuttoning her shirt, or at least trying to. The damn buttons were small, but her laugh was delicious and her fingers were there, precise and skillful and then she was above him, shrugging the plaid shirt away. Her bra followed. 

It was like looking directly at the sun. 

“Now we match,” she grinned. “Come here.”

He was sitting up and she was adjusting a pillow behind his back and pulling him closer. “Tell me what feels good,” she said, caressing his neck, his ears, his cheeks. 

“Everything,” he said and made her chuckle. His chest felt like it might explode as he buried his nose in the hollow of her throat. _God._. She was so warm and soft and tiny. He loved it. “I'm serious. Everything. You. _You_ feel so good.”

“Good, then,” she said. 

“But are you sure?” 

She pressed herself against his hard-on as a response. His eyes rolled back. He wanted her so much, he couldn't even think. 

“Are you trying to kill me?” 

“No,” her teeth against his earlobe made him shiver. What a lie. She was most certainly trying to end him. 

“I don't think you're being honest,” he said, lightly biting the juncture of her shoulder. She arched into him. 

“Oh I like that. Do that again.”

“This?” he made sure not to bite hard, not to leave a mark. She moaned and he took it as encouragement to do it again. 

“I love it. I love teeth,” she pulled away to look at him. “I love _touching_ ,” she looked down his chest, setting her both hands in the middle and he was sure she could feel his heart beating wildly. “And I really want to touch you.” 

There was nothing he could say to that; he could just kiss her. And he did, hoping it would convey all that he wasn't able to put into words – how much he wanted her and that he trusted her and that he wanted this. That she was glorious and beautiful and hot, and that he'd lost his mind for her long time ago.

And just as she said she was touching him, fingertips and lips and nose and eyelashes against his cheeks and neck and shoulders. She took his hand and pulled two of his fingers in her mouth, and he watched, overwhelmed by the sensation of warmth and wetness of her mouth. When she placed her fingers against his mouth he pulled them in, trying to return the favor and the thing was, her reaction. How her eyes closed, how she moaned, how she pressed herself against him and moaned when his hips jerked in response. This was him and her, and she was.... giving all of this to him, even though he probably didn't deserve it, but she still gave it to him – the sight of her eyes half closed and her body bared for him. That made his throat tight and his chest painful and full of longing.

“Let's get this off of you,” she said after she pulled her hand away from his mouth and looked down at his sweat pants. He remained sitting and watched her pull the rest of his clothes down his legs; lifted his hips and held his breath when she looked at him. 

“Is anything about you not gorgeous?” she said softly and he felt such relief, such happiness and pride and, _oh God_. He didn't even know how the things he was feeling were called. She gently grabbed his ankles and tugged him down, and then he was laying naked on the bed with her crawling over him. “You're just so pretty it's unfair.”

He smiled. “I'm not pretty, Skye.”

“You are to me,” she kissed him and he thought he could live on just kissing her. He moaned when she slipped further down to kiss his chin, to leave a wet train down his throat and scratch his chest. When she touched his nipple he shivered and when she put her mouth on him he thought he might explode. 

“Skye,” he managed and hoped she'd understand. To him it was the favorite word in the world, anyway. 

“Too much?” 

“No,” his breathing was hard, as if he just ran up the hill. “It's just... I,” he stopped. He didn't even know how to say it. It was sex and it was all familiar and then it was completely new. Completely foreign, but not in a bad way. It was someone treating his body like something worthy. Something precious. “Just. The way you touch me. It's -” he closed his eyes and searched for the word. “Different.” 

“Ward,” she said quietly and the softly added, “Grant.”

This wasn't supposed to work like this, or was it? Sex was always something that helped him empty his chest and feel light. Looking into her eyes made him feel like his heart was impossibly expanding. She kissed him and everything was good, and he wasn't afraid. 

Then her hand went lower down his body, caressed his chest and his stomach and finally wrapped itself around his length. 

“Oh. Oh God.”

“Shhh. 'Tis okay. Just relax,” she whispered into his ear, following her words with the teeth tugging at his earlobe, and he was almost seeing stars. 

“If I relax, this is going to be over very fast,” he managed. When he looked up at her she smiled. “I don't want to mess up.”

“You won't mess up,” she said. “There are no right and wrong dance moves here, you know?” 

Then she was unzipping her pants and he watched as she took them off, watched as she crawled over him again and took his hand. “Touch me,” she said. “Right here.” 

She guided his hand, from the hollow of her throat towards her breasts and nipples, down over her stomach and between her legs. She asked for what she wanted, for his lips and tongue and teeth and the feeling of his scratchy cheeks against her stomach. For his fingers inside of her and he watched as she arched into his hand, her mouth open and eyes closed. 

“Ward,” she moaned. 

“Yes?” 

“Fuck me now,” she said. “ _Please._ ” 

He found his way between her legs. She was so tiny compared to him, he feared he'd crush her, but she pulled him close and guided him inside her body and he was _lost_.

“Oh,” there was a trace of pain in her voice and he didn't dare to move. 

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she was breathing hard now, and stroking his arms. “Just. Nothing about you is particularly small.”

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” she smiled and he smiled along and then they were laughing, silently and happily and he was kissing her. 

“That's okay. Just. Adjustment,” she said and opened her mouth for him. He moved carefully, out and back in and this time her moan was different. Breathy and needy. “Better. Much better,” he was starting to find a rhythm, slow and steady and she was panting. “Yes, this exactly.” 

They matched. They somehow fit together, her soft body and his hard edges, and she moved under him, asked for more and harder until he wasn't thinking any more, he was just feeling, just this, just her; until his entire world narrowed down to skin on skin and the heat he was wrapped in. Her climax was sudden, tight and wet and hot; and her small hands holding onto him for dear life. He buried his face in her shoulder and tried to hold himself together fut the force of her pulled him under – the world exploded behind his eyelids and he gave in. 

When he opened his eyes – when the storm inside him ceased – the first thing he was aware of was touch. And then breathing, the sound and sensation of her under him, and the familiar smell of her sweat. 

Slowly, he pulled away, rolled onto his back and she went with him, top of her head tucked under his chin. 

“Hey,” she said. 

“Hey,” he managed, realizing that his muscles were finally loose and aching with heaviness. He yawned. 

“That was awesome,” she said. 

“Mhmm.”

“You're also wasted,” there was so much smile in her voice. 

“Kind of,” he admitted. There was no use denying. He was about to pass out. 

“Sleep well,” she kissed his chest. “We can continue in the morning.”

He barely registered her promise, and then realized she wasn't moving away and felt her covering them both, and then she was back, comforting weight of her on his chest. 

The world was upside down, but Grant didn't want it to right itself.


End file.
